anything. And you liked him so much and thought so much of him, and looked up to him the way you did. I didn't want to say anything, when you felt that way. But I never liked him, I don't know why." " It's easy for you to say that now," he said bitterly, still not looking at her. " No, it's been for a long time. Maybe it was something that day at his house. The way his sister always acted when he was around, the way she never took her eyes off him in a way that made you creepy." "You imagined it/' he said. He was irritated with her story. He did not want to hear it. "No, and that night when she took me upstairs, I hap- pened to glance at that little picture at the head of the stairs —maybe you saw it, a picture of a woman—and she stopped and held the light close up, and said, 'That was his wife/ Then she turned around and looked at him—he was standing hi the hall down there, just getting ready to go back to the living-room. She looked at him that way, then she said,f She was an angel/ It made you believe that old story about them, about her." "About him driving her to being a dope fiend?" he de- manded. " Killing herself with morphine? That's scandal- mongering. She was rich and he got her money, when she died. That made the gossip/* " I never liked him from the moment I laid eyes on him," she declared. He drew his arm from her clasp. "He'll ruin us all," he said. He looked directly into her face. " You and me, too," he added, "he'll ruin us." " Don't worry so, Perse," she begged, reaching for his arm again. " It'll all be all right It's bound to------" " Nothing's bound to," he said. "You musn't worry; just try to forget it now." She drew him, trying to lead him a step or two down the path, pulling his arm, and reluctantly he followed. " I'm going to make another bed here/' she announced, "for some nasturtiums.